Professional Documents
Culture Documents
‘Paul Burns gracefully connects the deep theoretical foundations of corporate entrepreneur-
ship with the existential yet clear and present challenges that corporations face every day. Lively
discussions of contemporary issues in the domain are supported by relevant and high value-
added figures, tables, lists, and, perhaps most importantly, case insights that help crystallize the
topics discussed. Overall, the book is both robust and fresh. I am genuinely excited about using
this textbook in both my undergraduate and graduate corporate entrepreneurship courses.’
—Nesij Huvaj, Suffolk University, USA
‘I’m a real advocate of this textbook and am delighted that there is a new edition! I have
regularly used the previous version with Executive MBA and final year undergraduate
entrepreneurship and innovation students. The case studies and group discussions are par-
ticularly helpful for bringing theoretical frameworks alive. The jewel in the crown, for me,
is the Corporate Entrepreneurship Audit tool!’
—Karen Bill, University of Worcester, UK
‘An up-to-date textbook that helps lecturers flip their classrooms into action-oriented
launchpads for experiential innovations. The exciting way in which Professor Burns inte-
grates organizational, strategic, cultural and corporate governance theories with cases,
reflections and activities from around the world makes this book a dynamic and effective
resource for lecturers and students of corporate entrepreneurship.’
—Mayank Kumar Golpelwar,
City University of Applied Sciences (Bremen), Germany
‘The new edition of Corporate Entrepreneurship and Innovation builds upon an already solid
textbook and takes it to the next level. Professor Burns’ textbook teaches the hows and whys
of corporate entrepreneurship at a level undergraduate students can understand. The updated
case studies about companies worldwide not only highlight important concepts using an
international lens but will engage my students in lively classroom discussions. Kudos to
Professor Burns for giving students an edge as they become corporate entrepreneurs.’
—Jay Azriel, York College of Pennsylvania, USA
‘This book provides distinct insights into the development of the entrepreneurial mindset.
The use of various learning resources provides an effective balance between knowing how
and knowing why. I applaud the author especially for the case insights which cover a broad
range of sectors and countries, both developed and developing. I recommend this book to
both undergraduates and postgraduates.’
—Juliet Puchert, University of Fort Hare, South Africa
‘This is a detailed, in-depth, accessible and wide ranging book that deserves to hold pride of
place in any comprehensive library of entrepreneurship theory and practice. Burns’ latest
edition is carefully organized to take the reader effortlessly and elegantly from “knowing-
how” to “knowing-why”. The wide range of varied but seamlessly integrated elements pro-
vides inspiration, provokes curiosity, and involves both group and individual opportunities
for deep and effective learning. Burns robustly answers the challenge of how to create
entrepreneurial transformation in larger organizations.’
—Joanna Berry, Durham University, UK
‘One of my favourite aspects of Paul Burns’ new edition of Corporate Entrepreneurship and
Innovation is the “Index of case insights”, which not only offers a big picture about real-
world corporate entrepreneurship and innovation but also organizes various topics, sectors
and countries in a unique way.’
—Vincent Chang, China Europe International Business School, China
‘This textbook covers not only the latest insights into corporate entrepreneurship but also
draws on case studies from organizations all over the globe in order to develop a cross-cultural
understanding of entrepreneurship. Links to psychometric testing and practical information
are an added bonus. This new edition is the best yet. Paul Burns has created a must-read text-
book for the entrepreneurs and intrapreneurs of the future.’
—Bert Meeuwsen, Wittenborg University of Applied Sciences, the Netherlands
‘This new edition has a greater focus on innovation and enhanced coverage of corporate
entrepreneurship. Featuring case studies of high-profile companies from around the globe,
this book provides excellent insights into contemporary theory and practice in corporate
entrepreneurship and innovation.’
—Catherine Wang, Brunel University London, UK
‘Paul Burns’ Corporate Entrepreneurship and Innovation is one of the best textbooks to
help students comprehend the fundamental pillars of contemporary entrepreneurialism
from the eyes of corporations. The book actively facilitates the learning process by encour-
aging students to connect theory to practice by dint of a great deal of lively case insights
from well-known enterprises in all parts of the world.’
—Celal Cahit Agar, University of St Andrews, UK
PAUL BURNS
CORPORATE
ENTREPRENEURSHIP
AND INNOVATION
fourth edition
© Paul Burns, under exclusive licence to Macmillan Education Limited 2005, 2008,
2013, 2020
No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written
permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the
Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6–10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS.
Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to
criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
The author has his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Red Globe Press® is a registered trademark in the United States, the United Kingdom,
Europe and other countries.
This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and
sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to
conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
To Jean - my love and inspiration
And my boys: Alex, Ben and Oli - my hope for the future
v
Brief contents
Contents ix
List of figures and tables xviii
Index of case insights xxi
About the author xxviii
Preface to the fourth edition xxx
Acknowledgements xxxv
Guided tour of the book xxxvi
vii
Brief contents
viii
Contents
ix
Contents
Case insights
2.1 Haier Group 39
2.2 Sulhail Bhawan Group 47
2.3 3M (1) 50
3. Innovation 57
The purpose of innovation 58
Defining and measuring innovation 59
Radical product/service innovation 61
Business model innovation 63
Challenging market paradigms 66
Creativity and innovation 68
Innovation intensity 70
Innovation and risk 72
Innovation, profitability and growth 74
Innovation, company size and industry structure 75
Summary 78
Group discussion questions 78
Activities 79
References 79
Case insights
3.1 Rolls-Royce and Finferries 63
3.2 Bill Gates and Microsoft 65
3.3 Rolls-Royce and TotalCare® 66
3.4 Swatch 67
3.5 Astex Therapeutics 77
x
Contents
xi
Contents
xii
Contents
xiii
Contents
xiv
Contents
xv
Contents
xvi
Contents
xvii
List of Figures
and Tables
LIST OF FIGURES
A The wheel of learning xxxi
1.1 Scaling laws 10
1.2 Growth stages of a firm 11
1.3 Character traits of entrepreneurs 15
1.4 Spider’s web organizational structure 19
1.5 Strategy formulation in small firms 21
2.1 Entrepreneurial intensity 32
2.2 Hierarchy of terminology used in corporate entrepreneurship 34
2.3 Four pillars of organizational architecture 36
2.4 Influences on entrepreneurial architecture 39
2.5 The wheel of learning 44
3.1 Product, process and marketing innovation 60
3.2A Innovation intensity (two dimensions) 72
3.2B Innovation intensity (three dimensions) 72
3.3 Innovation and risk 73
4.1 Hofstede’s dimensions of national culture 88
4.2 The cultural web 95
4.3 Success/failure score card 99
4.4 The cultural web of an entrepreneurial organization 100
4.5 An Organizational Culture Assessment Instrument (OCAI) map.
Used with permission from Kim Cameron and Robert Quinn 103
5.1A Simple hierarchy (5 people): 4 interactions 112
5.1B Self-organizing team (5 people): 10 interactions 112
5.2 Organizational hierarchy 114
5.3 Matrix organizational structure 115
5.4 Organic structures within an organic structure 117
5.5 Organic multifunctional project teams 118
5.6 Mixed organic/hierarchical structures 119
5.7 Organic head office structure with subsidiaries, divisions and
departments 120
5.8 Structure, task and environment 121
5.9 Control vs autonomy 124
xviii
List of Figures and Tables
LIST OF TABLES
2.1 Personal character traits of the entrepreneur that need to be reflected
in an entrepreneurial architecture 49
2.2 Management characteristics of the entrepreneur that need to be
reflected in an entrepreneurial architecture 50
3.1 The world’s most innovative companies 70
4.1 Entrepreneurial vs bureaucratic cultures 97
4.2 Cultures that enhance vs cultures that inhibit learning 98
5.1 Most commonly outsourced technology functions (%) 131
5.2 Partnerships for a computer manufacturer 132
5.3 Advantages and disadvantages of being a franchisor or franchisee 136
11.1 Commercial viability checklist 298
12.1 Tools for a SWOT analysis 329
14.1 Attractions and dangers of corporate acquisitions 386
16.1 Culture characteristics of an entrepreneurial organization 419
16.2 Structural characteristics of an entrepreneurial organization 422
16.3 Leadership characteristics of an entrepreneurial organization 424
16.4 Characteristics of strategies likely to be seen in an entrepreneurial
organization 428
16.5 Characteristics of an environment where an entrepreneurial
xx architecture would be beneficial 430
Index of case insights
USA
Chapter 3 Innovation
3.1 Rolls-Royce and Finferries Partnership working Power systems 63
manufacturer
UK/
Finland
xxi
Index of case insights
Malaysia
4.3 Louis Gerstner and IBM Changing corporate Technology 106
culture manufacturer
USA
Chapter 5 Structure in the entrepreneurial organization
5.1 Enron Autonomy vs control Energy supplier 126
USA
5.2 Tesla Motors Organizing for Motor vehicle 129
innovation manufacturer
USA
5.3 GVC and MGM Resorts Joint ventures Gaming 135
UK/USA
5.4 Alphabet (1) Organizational Internet and 136
design and risk technology
conglomerate USA
xxii
Index of case insights
Japan/
USA
7.2 Alphabet (2) Organizational Internet and 186
design and culture technology
change conglomerate USA
7.3 GlaxoSmithKline (GSK) Managing change Pharmaceuticals 188
UK
7.4 Nautitech Corporate turnaround Mining equipment 192
manufacturer
Australia
7.5 The London School Managing a Education 193
turnaround (public sector)
UK
7.6 Patagonia Reconciling CSR and Clothing 198
commercial objectives manufacturer
USA
Chapter 8 Managing risk in the entrepreneurial organization
8.1 BP and Deepwater Horizon Control vs risk Oil exploration 207
UK
8.2 Eurostar Risk management Rail service 212
UK/France
xxiii
Index of case insights
UK
9.2 Great Ormond Street Connectivity Health care 238
Hospital (public sector)
UK
9.3 Apple (1) Open innovation Internet and 242
technology
conglomerate UK
9.4 Linux Open innovation Software 243
USA
9.5 Stellenbosch LaunchLab Incubators and Various sectors 245
accelerators
South
Africa
9.6 Tencent Work environment Internet and 246
technology
conglomerate
China
9.7 Tata Group and Tata Structures to Conglomerate/ 253
Consultancy Services (TCS) encourage innovation Services
India
Chapter 10 Generating business ideas
10.1 Hackathons Finding solutions Software 261
to problems
France
xxiv
Index of case insights
Sweden
11.2 Apple (3) Design and Internet and 290
competitive technology
advantage conglomerate USA
11.3 FBR (Fastbrick Robotics) Prototype Mobile robot 300
development manufacturer
Australia
11.4 Dropbox Lean start-up Internet services 302
provider
USA
Chapter 12 Strategy and business model development
12.1 Quanta computers Differential Contract computer 321
advantage manufacturer
China
xxv
Index of case insights
China/
USA
12.3 Pinterest Developing a Internet service 325
business model for a provider
radical innovation USA
12.4 wiGroup Pivoting Fintech 329
South
Africa
12.5 audioBoom Pivoting Internet audio 331
service provider
UK
Chapter 13 Venture teams and intrapreneurs
13.1 3M (2): The post-It Note® Intrapreneurs and Conglomerate 344
‘bootlegging’
USA
13.2 W.L. Gore Intrapreneurs and Clothing 344
‘dabble time’ manufacturer
USA
13.3 Lockheed Martin Intrapreneurs and Aircraft 345
‘skunk-working’ manufacturer
USA
13.4 Alphabet (3): X Development New product/ Internet and 355
service ideation and technology
development divisions conglomerate USA
Chapter 14 Product/market development
14.1 Mobike Business models Bicycle rental 372
and competitive
advantage
China
14.2 Lenovo Acquisitions and Computer 378
industry concentration manufacturer
China
xxvi
Index of case insights
India/UK
15.3 Alphabet (4) Acquisitions, Internet and 407
monetization and technology
knowledge transfer conglomerate USA
15.4 New-to-the-world industries Converging markets: Internet and 409
Redefining business technology
scope conglomerates USA
15.5 Planet innovation Corporate Innovation and 413
entrepreneurship commercialization
consultancy Australia
Chapter 16 Summary: The Corporate Entrepreneurship Audit
16.1 Alphabet (5): Google Entrepreneurial Internet and 432
architecture technology
conglomerate USA
16.2 LEGO® Entrepreneurial Toy manufacturer 438
transformation
Denmark
xxvii
About the Author
Paul Burns is Emeritus Professor of Entrepreneurship at the University of Bedfordshire
Business School, UK. He has been Pro Vice Chancellor and for 10 years was Dean of the
Business School, stepping down in 2011. Over his 40-year career he has been an academic,
an accountant and an entrepreneur – giving him unrivalled academic and practical insight
into the entrepreneurial process. As well as launching and running his own business, he has
helped develop hundreds of business plans and has worked with entrepreneurs, small firms
and their advisors, helping launch successful businesses.
For ten years, he was Professor of Small Business Development at Cranfield School of
Management, UK, where, in 1983, he launched the Graduate Enterprise Programme in
England, which was offered at dozens of universities. He started his academic career at
Warwick University Business School, UK, where he set up their first Small Business Unit.
For eight years he was Director of 3i European Enterprise Research Centre researching
small firms and entrepreneurs across Europe. He has been a Visiting Fellow at Harvard
Business School, USA and for three years was Visiting Professor at the Open University
Business School, UK, where he developed the multimedia Small Business Programme
which was screened on BBC2. He is a Fellow and a former President of the Institute for
Small Business and Entrepreneurship (ISBE).
Paul qualified as a Chartered Accountant with Arthur Andersen & Co., where he worked
with many growing businesses. He launched and ran his own business, Design for Learning
Ltd., advising and training on entrepreneurship and growing firms where he worked with
organizations such as the accounting firms Grant Thornton and BDO Stoy Hayward, ven-
ture capitalists 3i, and banks such as the Royal Bank of Scotland, Barclays and Lloyds. He
has advised and consulted at various levels of government in the United Kingdom and
overseas, and Margaret Thatcher wrote the foreword to one of his books, Entrepreneur:
Eight British success stories of the eighties (MacMillan, 1988). He has authored dozens of
books and hundreds of journal articles and research reports.
xxviii
About the Author
well as a range of multimedia content, including video case studies. It is described as ‘one of
the most comprehensive books in the area of entrepreneurship’ – a ‘masterpiece’, ‘highly
engaging’ and ‘an exceptional treatise’. A new edition is due to be published in 2022.
New Venture Creation: A Framework for Entrepreneurial
Start-ups, 2nd edn, 2018
This textbook was first published in 2014. Based on its own
New Venture Creation Framework including a comprehen-
sive set of online, interactive learning aids, it helps students
through the whole process of new venture creation, includ-
ing finding a business idea, developing a value proposition
for customers and refining a business model that can be
developed into a professional business plan. The first edition
was praised as ‘the go-to-guide when it comes to new ven-
ture creation’ that is ‘bound to ensure that this book becomes
a core text for new venture creation modules.’ The book is described as ‘covering all the
parts of the venture creation process without resorting to shortcuts’ and a ‘tour de force’
as well as being ‘another gem from Paul Burns’.
xxix
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Roman pictures
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.
Language: English
ROMAN PICTURES
By
PERCY LUBBOCK
Author of Earlham & The Craft of Fiction
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
Made and printed in Great Britain by Charles Whittingham and Griggs
(Printers), Ltd., London.
CONTENTS
PAGE
V. VIA GIULIA 65
Mr. Fitch, the Cheltenham furniture, the seminarist, Maundy’s
fancy, the path to Rome, the burnt sonnet, Gina, historical research,
the golden evenings, a point of ritual, art in the void, an uneasy
neophyte.
I FOUND myself loitering by that pretty little Fountain of the Tortoises, not
for the first time; but this time (it was an afternoon of late April, long years
ago) I looked stupidly at the boys and the tortoises and the dripping water,
with a wish in my mind for something more. But what? I had drifted hither
and thither about Rome, from the Gate of the People to the Baths of
Caracalla—drifted day after day in my solitude through a month of April
more divinely blue and golden than the first spring-days of the world; and
whether I was in the body or out of the body I scarcely knew, for I moved in
a great bubble of imagination that I had never known the like of in all the
years (perhaps twenty) of my life before I came to Rome. I had escaped from
the poor chamber of myself; for the imagination I dreamed and revelled in
was surely none of my own. It was of the spirit of all time, livelier, lovelier
than I could say, a power and a freedom that a rather lean young soul,
ignorantly aspiring, may enter into and take possession of unconsciously,
without an effort—in Rome.
But I do remember lingering about the Fountain of the Tortoises at last,
between sun and shadow, with a wish that something now, something or
some one, would break into my solitude and my dream; not that I was tired
of either, but because my dream and my solitude would be still more
beautiful if I could look at them for an hour across an interval, across the
kind of division that is created by—yes, exactly!—by the sight to which I
presently raised my eyes, turning away from the dapple and ripple of the
fountain. A young man, passing across the square, met my blank gaze at this
moment and suddenly threw out a sign of recognition; and I saw with
surprise that it was my precious Deering, of whose presence in Rome I had
been quite unaware. Deering it was!—after four or five lonely weeks, in
which I had never happened to see a face that I knew, it was Deering who
linked me to the real world again by crossing the Square of the Tortoises at
that hour of that afternoon. I had left my shining bubble in a flash (he hadn’t
noticed it) and joined hands with common life.
We weren’t really on terms of intimacy; but in the strangeness of Rome
our little English acquaintance had the air of a cordial friendship. I gushed
over with a warmth that surprised me and that would have been impossible
at home; the fountain and the palaces and the Roman sunshine had pushed
me forward into a familiarity that I shouldn’t have ventured upon elsewhere.
He was of my own age, but so much more exquisite and mannerly that I
looked raw indeed at his side; I was an aspiring amateur, he was a citizen of
the world. At school I had tried to avoid him, because I had courted (vainly,
vainly) the society of the more fashionably and the less refined; but I was
eager enough to seize him by both hands in my new freedom and to take
advantage of his riper experience. “Why, Deering—!” He did look
experienced, with his broad-brimmed hat and his neat black clothes, as I
moved towards him and directed my greeting, a little too effusively.
He took it with a brilliant smile, he whipped off his hat and held it to his
stomach. “Eh, come sta?” he said, standing bare-headed; “è pezzo pezzo che
non ci vediamo.” He fluted the words with mellifluous assurance, and I did
my best to meet his humour with my own poor bits and shreds of Italian.
There were no flute-notes in my repertory; but I made a jest of my round
British style and mouthed out some attempt at a Roman compliment. As
quick as thought he countered it with another; and that was surely enough of
the joke—the joke of our standing there bare-headed, flourishing our hats at
each other with Italian airings; so I let loose my pent-up English talk, after
those weeks of unnatural silence, and tumbled out exclamation and question
as they came—I was voluble, enjoying the release of the tongue, and there
were forty things I wanted to say and hear, for this meeting was quite
unexpected and exceedingly opportune; and so I chattered forth my surprise
and pleasure, and then—and then I found them left upon my hands,
somehow, and I looked rather a fool.
“Ma senta, senta,” said Deering. He smiled, but he was firm. He couldn’t
deal with me on these insular terms in Rome; he made me feel it without
explanation, but the fact was that he simply couldn’t allow me to be so
inappropriate, so falsely attuned to the time and place. There we stood in the
heart of Rome, with the palaces of princes around us, secluded among
winding streets all dark with wicked history; and here was Deering,
disguised as a Roman himself, with a great black hat and a suit of dead-black
clothes; and I had stuttered out my poor innocent school-talk, college-gossip,
heaven knows what, a scrannel-pipe to the suave warble of his flute. Had I
come all the way to Rome to be still a British undergraduate even there?
Well, as for that, he very soon put it right. He was kindness itself, but he had
the upper hand of me in these foreign parts, where he was so serenely at
home and I so ecstatically at sea. His was the advantage, as indeed I quite
understood, and he used it from the first. He gently set me in my place, not
without an indulgent smile.
“Senta, senta pure,” he said—or words to that effect; whatever they were
they keenly struck me as the very words I had wanted and missed in my
ignorant solitude. That was the way to talk to a Roman; I might have missed
it for ever, but Deering had picked it up, no doubt, the first time he put on his
broad-brimmed hat. How long had he been in Rome? I was allowed to ask
that question at least, and it appeared that he had come to Rome for a week,
six months before, and had stayed on and on because he had happened to
find rooms that pleased him. They were far from the “English ghetto,” so he
said, meaning that they were far from the hotels and the Piazza di Spagna
and touristry in general; and he had just finished his siesta and was on his
way to a café in the Via Nazionale, where he usually spent some hours of the
afternoon. And I, where was I going? As a matter of fact I had vaguely
thought of wandering away and away, out of the city and into the country—
from whence I should return in the dusk, luxuriously tired, solemnly
enraptured, to climb the long stairs to my own little lodging, my Arcadian
meal and couch. But this I concealed from Deering; I felt at once I must
protect my dear sentimental delights from his ironic eye. Moreover my
lodging, which I had thought so knowingly Roman, proved to be full in the
middle of the English ghetto; I kept this too from him as long as I could.
His siesta, his café, his rooms remote from the vulgar—oh I had such a
vision, as he mentioned these, of the kind of Roman career that I had failed
to go in for hitherto. Deering lived in Rome, I had floated on the surface.
Never mind—I threw over my private romance and adopted Deering’s
reality on the spot. He seemed to be immensely informed, and there was a
charming insolence in his wisdom; I might put my tenderest fancies behind
me and screen them in his presence, but he saw that I was a soft young
enthusiast, and he patronized me with the sweetness of his coo, his smile, his
winning gesture. He delicately blasted whatever had appeared to me of
interest and renown, he showed me the crudity of my standards. I might feel
a passing twinge, for I hadn’t been used to regarding myself as a thing with
which Deering could be indulgent and amused. And yet I was flattered, I
was magnified by his fastidious irony; it brought me into a new world of
mind and taste, more exclusive than my own.
But I obviously couldn’t give way to him in the matter of being so very
Italian that we mightn’t talk our own language. He could take me into
another world, but to endow me at the same time with a new speech was a
miracle beyond him. “Ma come, ma come,” he said encouragingly; he
implied that in the real life of illumination we are all free of the golden
tongue, the tongue of the clear Latin civiltà. It seemed he could hardly frame
his lips to the uncouth noises of the northern Goth. He brought out an
English phrase with an air of handing it over to me between disgustful
finger-tips, and he relapsed unconsciously as he did so into the sweeter
idiom. Ah Deering, Deering! That unconsciousness of his was a finished
performance, I could believe he had practised it before the glass. “But you,
my dear,” he said, “you surely speak the language like the rest of us—eh
magari!” I confessed that I spoke the language like a barbarian fresh from
my native wild; I should listen to him and the rest of them with pleasure, but
to me he must talk our poor old English. “And who are the rest of you?” I
demanded.
He answered my question at some length, inadvertently recovering his
former tongue. In six months of Roman life he had made many friends; he
had fallen into a circle that suited him as aptly as his rooms. “I scarcely
know how it happened,” he said, “but I seemed to find my feet here from the
first.” He apparently attributed a great deal of his fortune to the café of the
Via Nazionale; a right instinct had taken him there in the beginning, and
thereafter all had run smoothly. He had met a journalist, he had met an actor
or a lawyer or a doctor—anyhow he had met somebody whom the ordinary
Cook-driven tourist, slaving round the ruins and the galleries, would have
missed infallibly; and so he had entered a company which belonged—he
insisted on it—to the real Rome, the city unsuspected of our gaping
countrymen. His secret was to “live the life of the place,” he said; and let
there be no mistake, the life of the place is to be found among the shops and
tramways of the business quarter, nowhere else. It must be owned that in
Rome a stranger runs many a risk of overlooking the true life on these terms,
which are the terms that Deering laid down with high lucidity; for even if
you avoid the ghetto of the tourist on one hand, and the romantic desolation
of the Campagna (to which I myself was addicted) on the other, you may
still make a further mistake—and I put it to Deering that it really depends on
what you call the life of Rome. There is the community of the “student,” for
example; and I should have thought that Deering, with his rare vein of taste
in the arts, would haunt the workshops of young sculptors, ragged painters
and poets—weren’t they as plentiful in Rome as summer flies?
I had interrupted Deering’s exposition; he wanted to tell me more about
the ease with which he had dropped into the heart of Rome. But he broke
away from that, with another of his patient intelligent smiles, to explain to
me how much I failed to understand. There was no more any life of that kind
in Rome—no romantic art. Did I think that those horrible theatrical old men,
those bedizened little boys and girls, who still loaf upon the Spanish Steps
and waylay the foreigner—did I think they were genuine “models,” waiting
for real painters to carry them off and paint them? I supposed then that I was
living in the Rome of Hans Andersen and Nathaniel Hawthorne? He
abounded in his sarcasm. Ragged poets indeed! My notion of the vie de
Bohème was a little behind the times, fifty years or so. “Ah you live in
books,” said Deering—he rallied me on it; “in Rome you must come out of
books—I shall drag you out of Hawthorne.” As a matter of fact he knew the
young poets of Rome, he had several friends among them; it was no use my
looking for them in garrets and operatic wine-cellars near the Tiber; the Via
Nazionale was the place, vulgar as I thought it with its crowds and trams and
plate-glass—and he was off again, with his sweet flat voice and his neat
enunciation, describing the extraordinary favour that the journalists had
shown him, or perhaps the actors.
It was remarkable, he said, how they accepted him as one of themselves.
“There seems to be something of the Italian in me,” he mentioned once or
twice, “nothing to be proud of!”—and he smiled with pride. I could honestly
tell him that there was at least nothing English in his appearance, since he
had taken to powdering his nose and to clothing himself like an undertaker.
The remark about his nose I indeed reserved, but my allusion to his clothes
was a happy one. He immediately glanced with quiet approval at his hands,
and I remembered how in earlier years, when we were both small boys at
school, he had once pointed out to me that he had hands “like a Botticelli.”
He ought to have been grateful to me for the self-restraint I had shown in
withholding that confidence from the light. I had been surprisingly discreet, I
had never used his Botticelli hands against him in our free-spoken circle, and
I was glad of it now. Here in Rome, set free from the old snobberies of
boyhood, I was ready to take his hands quite seriously, and even the paste of
powder with which he had corrected the tint (inclining rather to Rubens) of
his nose. His black clothes were designed to set off his elegant wrists and
tapering fingers; and if a nose invariably scorched by the sun was a weight
on his mind, as I know it was, he found support in the well-drawn oval of his
face. He was not very tall, and unfortunately he was not very slender; it was
only too plain to see that before long he would be plump. But nevertheless
he might reasonably tell himself that his figure, as he stood by the fountain
and thoughtfully eyed his hands, had a hint and a suggestion, I don’t say
more, of something you might call—of something he hoped I was calling—a
lily-droop, swaying lightly.
I can see him bend and sway accordingly; and I can recall the bright
stream of sensation in my own mind, where the old desire to scoff at his
elegancies had apparently changed to respect and envy. What a free world, I
thought, what a liberal and charming, in which a stupid prejudice could
dissolve and drop away so quickly! Perhaps I didn’t quite understand that
my respect was not so much for Deering as for myself, not so much for
Deering’s pretty graces as for my own emancipation; but my envy of his
Italian ease and competence was indeed sincere. I would seize, yes I would,
such an opportunity of learning, discovering, experiencing; I would follow
Deering, accept his guidance and pay him his price—for his price was a
small one, merely a little tacit backing of his own view of himself. He would
expect me to agree with him that his face had a species of haunting charm;
he would expect me, at any rate, not to imply that it hadn’t. It was a trifling
indemnification for the many times he had been told in former days that he
had a face like a rabbit. I would gladly support him in abolishing the
memory of all that ribaldry; I should be rewarded by observing my own
tolerance with satisfaction and by becoming acquainted at the same time
with this “real Rome” of Deering’s—he was still fluting on about its reality.
We shuffled for a while to and fro across the sunny little square. Now and
then a bare-headed woman came pattering by, twisting her neck for a firm
round stare at us as she went; children looked on from a distance, struck
dumb in their play by our oddity. Deering talked and talked; he too felt the
relief of uttering himself, no doubt—for I could well believe that the real
Rome didn’t supply a listener who understood him as I did. Not one of those
actors or poets, for example, could measure the difference between Deering
of old, flouted and derided, and this remarkable young personage, ornament
of a strange society, who was now willing to be the patron of such as I.
Deering talked, I appreciated the difference; I did my part with a will, and he
bloomed in the warmth of my recognition. For six months, moreover, he had
been displaying the new, the very newest culture, and his associates hadn’t
really been in a position to perceive it. An Englishman who avoided the old
ruins and churches, who sat through the April afternoon at a marble-topped
table—why his companions would of course take him for an Englishman
who behaved, for a wonder, in a natural and commendable fashion; and this
was where I again came in so aptly, for I could do justice to the originality
and the modernity of his proceeding. It wasn’t as though Deering sat in a
café because he knew no better, because he was the kind of person whose
ideas are bounded by plush and gilt and plate-glass. He sat there, avoiding
the nightingales on the Aventine, the sunset in the Campagna, because he
knew all that and more, and because the rarity of the perversity of his culture
led him back again, round again, to the scream of the tramway in the
“business quarter.” I, who had watched him of old, could be trusted to
distinguish these niceties; there it was that I came into the game, and he
didn’t hesitate—he brought me into play.
“Yes,” he murmured, musing gently upon my state of romance, “yes, I
should like to drag you out of literature once for all. Come out of your
books, come to Rome—come with me.” I could truthfully say that I would
go with pleasure; and as for my books, I was quite willing to let him label
me as he chose—I accepted the part for which he cast me. I was the victim
of the romantic fallacy, and it all came of my looking for life in antiquated
fiction—in Zola even, in Zola as like as not—instead of looking for it in the
raw red world: such was the part he assigned me, and I have ever been one
to fall in with an arrangement of this kind. People, I long ago found, are
never happy till they have decided that you are this or that, some
recognizable type; and for yourself the line of least resistance is always to let
them have their way. In my time I have played many parts, acting up to the
theory and the expectation of my different companions; it saves trouble, it
spares one the effort of assertion. There are even those with whom I have
been able to assume the very attitude that Deering had now adopted towards
me, the attitude of a liberal patron towards a muddle-headed young innocent;
and then I have patronized as glibly as I now submitted. Deering saw in the
look with which I answered him the exact shade of awkward modesty that he
demanded. It was well; he approved my fluency in the part that had fallen to
me.
It was settled, then, that he was to hale me out of my sentimental twilight
into the broad noon of reality; I had lived for too long in a dream, and now
he promised himself the amusement of dispelling my illusions. So be it; I
told him I asked nothing better than to follow his lead, and I told myself that
at least I had a sharper eye for the “facts of life” (my phrase) than ever
Deering would have. We were both well-pleased, therefore; and I wonder at
which of us the spirit of Rome, glancing that afternoon over the Square of
the Tortoises, smiled and chuckled most benignly. It was Deering at any rate,
of the two of us, who made the more intricate object of study; anybody
might be drawn, even Rome, to pause and consider him as a child of his
time. When he slipped his arm through mine and daintily drew me forward
on our way—the way to reality!—I don’t think the first comer would have
guessed that he was about to become my sponsor in the raw red world. His
graceful hands seemed rather to flutter in deprecation of any world more
earthly than the sea-pallor, say, of a sunrise in the manner of Botticelli. But
that, for Deering, was just the fun of it. Of the sea-pale dawn he could
honestly say, and he did say, “J’ai passé par là”; in an earlier stage of his
culture he had duly swooned in the ecstasy of the burnished moment, the
discriminated pulse of the perfected sensation; but at that time he had worn
an Eton jacket, and years had flown since then, and by now his eye-lids were
more than a little weary of the raptures he had outlived. He, more precocious
than I, had left his books at the moment when I was making the first
discovery of mine; he no longer read any books at all, he told me, and if he
didn’t add that life was his book it was only because the phrase, when he
was about to utter it, struck him as old-fashioned and obvious. “ ‘Youth’s
sweet-scented manuscript’—you remember?”—he ventured on that,
guarding himself with a slightly acid intonation of the pretty words.
And so Deering turned me away from the ilex-shadows and grey spaces
of an evening on the Aventine and in the further country; he clung to my arm
and directed me to the clatter of the city, and that was how it all began. He
gave me a push, with his benediction, and one thing led to another, and I
started to collect some Roman pictures of a new sort. I stored away my more
sentimental bits and notes of impression, carefully saving them from the eye
of Deering; I laid them aside, and certainly they are not worth disturbing
again at this late hour. But as for these others, the new sort, I think it might
be amusing to bring them briefly to the light, one by one; though I don’t
pretend that even with Deering to point the way I penetrated far into Rome
or the world either. After all his offers to induct and indoctrinate me, nothing
came of them to speak of; I saw not a sign of rawness or redness, that I can
remember—so I suppose I must conclude that the heart of life escaped me
still. But even the fringes of life, if that is all they were, seemed strange and
memorable in Rome; nobody who lived in Rome, nobody who breathed the
golden air as a matter of course, nobody who trod the sacred soil as an
everyday affair, could be less than a wonder to a rather lean young northern
soul, whose lodging in the Piazza di Spagna had only been hired by the
month. The spring days were endless, but they flashed away faster than I
could count; presently they would all be gone, and I should have to leave
Rome to the few free happy creatures, such as Deering, who could stay
because they liked it, stay in Paradise because they happened to prefer it—I
should think they might! As Deering and I, arm in arm, left the square and
the babbling fountain, I was quite overcome by my jealousy of his
detachment from cares and ties, from the stupid thrums of responsibility that
so soon drag most of us away from the Rome of our desire.
“So here you are living in Rome,” I said dejectedly, “with nothing to
prevent you from staying for ever.” Deering was his own master, I knew, and
he sedulously cultivated a frosty indifference to any claims at home, such as
they were, that might have hampered him. I didn’t exactly admire his
ruthless way, but I certainly envied it. I should like to have had that faculty
of ignoring, blankly and serenely, what I chose to ignore; it would have been
a great convenience. All I needed was a little of Deering’s real independence
of opinion; for I can’t think I was embarrassed by many good warm qualities
of heart and temper. Deering was no unkinder than I, only bolder, more
secure in his power to stand alone. And then he had another immense
advantage; he could always be sympathetically impressed by his own
performance, he was an excellent audience of himself. “Living in Rome?” he
echoed—“you don’t know me! I shall take to the road again before long. But
you’re not tormented, as I am, by the gypsy in the blood. There are times
when I envy the like of you, the decent, the home-keeping——” He broke
off with a sigh—a sigh in which I could almost hear the involuntary murmur
of applause. Yes, the gypsy in the blood was a good stroke, and I think a new
one.